NowThe Reason
by fischfrau
Summary: FutureAU. Altaïr needs a reminder of why he chose to become immortal.


"Why are you still out here?"

Altaïr lifted his head slightly at Malik's words and he was sure he had heard a bit of concern in them. That made his lips curl up in a small smile as his gaze continued to roam freely about the city that was so gloriously presented to him, lights of the cars flickering everywhere, their casual honking a distant and constant noise; the reflection of the setting sun on the glass facades of the skyscrapers, its glistening on the water that surrounded New York, the play of its many colors at the sky. It was getting chilly high up here and Altaïr found himself hugging his own frame involuntarily.

"It's been such a long time already," he said, voice distant and despite himself, he felt something odd, something he did not think he could ever feel again.

But yes, it had been almost a millennium since his fatal decision. And now, almost a thousand years later, he could no longer understand _why_.

A hand was laid on his shoulder and it squeezed lightly, reassuring, as though Malik knew what he was thinking. There was an exhale and then the hand was gone again.

Altaïr hung his head and closed his eyes, the bizarre feeling washing over him once more.

"It was a foolish thing to do, wasn't it, Malik?"

For a while, there was silence, save for the noises of the busy city, then, "Please, get in," spoken a bit too hesitant, voice too cracked and pleading for Altaïr to simply drop the subject. Apparently, Malik had always known that this day would come, when Altaïr finally had to admit that using the apple to become immortal had been a dumb and idiotic idea because _no one should be living forever, it just wasn't right…_

"I'm sorry Malik, I'm sorry that I condemned us both—"

"Be still already, there is nothing to be sorry for!"

Altaïr flinched slightly, slouching his shoulders and biting his lower lip to keep himself from apologizing yet again; it would only anger Malik further and he would not stand for upsetting the only person that was still keeping him company in this world…

Suddenly, guilt gripped his heart and a pang of remorse made him inhale sharply and hold his breath for a moment before letting it out again, along with something that almost sounded like a pained cry.

"Don't, Altaïr, please," came the hushed plea as Malik rushed by his side, wrapping his arm around Altaïr's shaking frame. He tried to look into the weeping one's eyes, but the wise master assassin kept turning his head away, and since his only arm was occupied with holding his friend…

"Look at me," he breathed, hugging Altaïr closer, hand rubbing along his back soothingly, but Altaïr did not comply; instead, his sobbing became louder and more pathetic.

"Look at me!" Malik then insisted, and while his voice had been weak earlier, it regained some strength now. Altaïr's stubbornness was still the same as always, it seemed and it still made his blood boil with anger. Some things, apparently, were not meant to change…

Hazel eyes at last stared right into his own, and Malik was thoroughly shocked to see that they were dull and lifeless. He was almost drowning in sadness when he was looking into Altaïr's eyes and it took him a great deal of determination not to start crying as well right now.

"Shhh," he tried to soothe his friend, leaning his head on the other one's shoulder, rocking them both back and forth slowly.

"It might have been foolish, but that doesn't matter now," he deliberately whispered, closing his eyes as he relived the crucial moment; Altaïr's gleaming smile, full of enthusiasm over the newfound knowledge he had found about the apple, the way he had hurriedly stuttered when telling Malik about his idea, that there was _nothing to be afraid of_ and that he did this only _because I love you…_

Grasping the back of Altaïr's hand, he pulled him down to capture his lips with his mouth hungrily, gratefully, desperately. The assassin's eyes widened in shock and a surprised gasp escaped his throat, but he was quick to lean in to the comforting touch, wrapping his arms around the man he had taken so much from already, whom he even denied his own death only out of his damned selfishness.

They parted, gazing into each other's eyes silently for a few moments. Malik's hand moved up to sweep shed tears away, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Altaïr brought his forehead up against Malik's and a relieved sigh fell from his lips.

"I thank you, brother," the master assassin whispered, kissing the other's forehead.

There was a low chuckle. "No, Altaïr, I thank _you_."


End file.
